


all you never say, all i already know

by elle_you_oh



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Philinda Secret Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_you_oh/pseuds/elle_you_oh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a first time for everything, and a last. Sometimes those are one and the same.  Phil learns this the hard way after a stranger gives her life to save his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all you never say, all i already know

**Author's Note:**

> for angeperalta for the philinda secret summer, inspired by all you never say by birdy and doctor who/the time traveller's wife

**September 3rd 2008**

 

Phil meets her for the first time in Manama, Bahrain.

 

He’s actually been at this exact location before, ten months ago, several years into the future. It was just another mission, so he doesn’t remember much of it all.

 

But today, this mission; he’ll never forget.

 

He’s been working for S.H.I.E.L.D since he turned eighteen and he’s been in his mid-twenties to thirties for decades now. Thus was the life of a time agent.

 

So Bahrain. He’s not strictly here for a mission, because this might totally be a trap, but when one works as a time agent, one must take the chance. The coordinates just popped up on his tracker and that pretty much is the sole reason he’s standing in the blazing heat, looking around for any sign of a trap.

 

He’s scanning the area, gaze flittering over the little stores in the market, the colourful cloths standing out against the red-brown sand that made up most of the landscape, smell of spices permeating through the air.

 

“Enjoying the sights?”

 

There’s a woman standing to one side, dressed very similarly to all those around them, but he can immediately sense that there’s something different about her. There’s a sparkle in her eye, her lips turned up ever so slightly, as though she is happy to see him. Maybe he’ll end up with a knife between his ribs.

 

“You’re the one who contacted me?” he asks, a subconscious frown beginning to form between his brows.

 

Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and he knows that she’s about to respond, when it all goes to hell. Suddenly they’re being shot at from every possible direction and she grabs his arm before bolting. The light vanishes and then the moon and stars decorate the sky and they’ve just travelled through time because they’re standing exactly where they were just moments ago because now it’s evening.

 

“You just blew our cover right off,” she hisses, fingers curled tightly around his wrist as she pulls him into a seemingly abandoned building.

 

Once she’s satisfied that the perimeter is secure, she lets go of him and slumps down onto the ground and it isn’t until he’s switched on a mini lighting device that he realises she’s been shot in the leg.

 

“You’re hurt. Let me take a look,” he offers, crouching down beside her injured form.

 

“It’s fine Phil, just a graze,” she responds, rolling her eyes as if they’ve had this conversation a thousand times before.

 

He watches blankly as she rips off part of her silken scarf, wrapping it tightly around the bleeding wound in her leg before looking back up at him. The teasing smile fades from her face as he continues to remain expressionless.

 

She doesn’t speak, simply raising a hand to his arm as if to ask him what was wrong, but he doesn’t know how to answer. He wonders if he accidentally travelled to an alternate universe, or he just has amnesia, because he can’t find another way to explain not knowing, or forgetting even, a woman like her.

 

“Do- do you know who I am?”

 

Her voice is small and her expression is guarded, and he already knows that when he shakes his head no, she’ll likely offer him no visible reaction. And he’s right.

 

They sit there in silence for moments longer, before she finally nods, extending her arm for a handshake.

 

“I’m Agent Melinda May, of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

 

He accepts her hand almost robotically, trying to process the thoughts racing through his mind. He’d assumed she was an agent or close enough, to be able to jump through time, most likely with a vortex manipulator similarly fashioned to his. Knowing they work for the same agency is a relief, but it still doesn’t explain why she appears to know him whilst he has no recollection of her whatsoever. Despite all the confusing timey-wimey jumping around, S.H.I.E.L.D keeps files on all their agents, and he’s met the majority of them through one mission or another.

 

He figures he’s being rude and moves to introduce himself, before remembering that she already knows who he is.

 

“We should rest before they catch up to us,” she tells him, and then she’s turning away, laying her head against the sandstone wall and curling up, physically and mentally withdrawing herself.

 

And so he shuffles back and assumes a position similar to hers, glad for the thoughts keeping him awake as he keeps watch over her through the evening.

 

**September 8th 2008**

 

There hasn’t been any more time jumping.

 

They’re on the run, like normal people, and that’s fine by him.

 

Melinda is incredible. She fights like nothing he’s ever seen, even whilst injured, and he all too often catches himself just watching her, for a reason he cannot even begin to comprehend. She hasn’t smiled again, shown any emotion really, since that first day. He knows deep down that she’s hiding something from him, but he’s just a stranger at this point in time; he has no right to ask.

 

They’ve just evaded capture once more, and he’s not even sure who is trying to hunt them down, but she grabs his arm just like the first time and her eyes tell him to run and so they do.

 

But the first thing they taught him once he joined up with S.H.I.E.L.D was that not even they could run from everything.

 

* * *

 

The masked men catch up to them nearing sunset that very day.

 

They’re outnumbered and there’s nowhere else left to go and this is really one of those times Phil wished there wasn’t a restriction on how they travelled because skipping ahead several days to a safe location, say, Headquarters, sounded like a pretty good idea to him.

 

The fight is short and she tackles seven men while he fights with three.

 

He hears them drop one by one, and turns triumphantly when he knocks down his third opponent, and she’s on the opposite side of the room standing over seven bodies until she isn’t. He hears the trigger being pulled before he sees it, but he doesn’t feel a hole rip through his heart like he expected.

 

He rather finds himself lying flat on the ground, a weight on top of him, and he realises that Melinda has taken the bullet for him. He’s dimly aware that there’s a child, a little girl lying on the ground not too far from them, a gun in her hand and a hole in her skull, but can’t bring himself to give her a second glance because Melinda is bleeding out in his arms and he’s not sure her body can sustain a time and location leap in this state.

 

He wants to scream, to yell in frustration, because this brilliant woman who was close to becoming his friend, but by all means still a stranger, has just sacrificed herself to save him and it’s something he can’t even fathom.

 

“Why?”

 

It’s the only word his mind can seem to formulate, but it’s enough for her to understand because she gives him a smile.

 

“If you had died here, it would have meant we’d never met,” she responds weakly, and the tears are stinging his eyes because he’s so confused and frustrated and he has no idea what to do.

 

“There has to be some way, a medical facility around here,” he tries, but they both know there isn’t anything else that can be done.

 

She reaches a bloody hand to his cheek, thumbing away a tear and smearing a streak of bright red onto his face.

 

“You’ll see me again,” she whispers, and it’s like a promise; hope building within him, but he can’t bear to sit here and let her die.

 

He forces himself to stand as she lies limply in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder. There’s nowhere left for them to run, nowhere he can take her, but he has to try.

 

His heart is pounding so loudly within his chest as her heartbeat begins to fade, but he still manages to catch the words she utters to him.

 

“I liked it you know. A little bit.”

 

It’s some sort of confession, but when she sees his confused expression from beneath half-closed eyes, she continues.

 

“The dancing. The last time I saw you. You were in a new suit, and I had this ridiculous silver dress and we danced the entire night. I told you I hated it but..”

 

And then she stops speaking, her breath dying out as she utters the last word and he wants to fall to his knees and scream for her to finish the story, but he plunders on, praying to whoever could hear him that they didn’t take her away.

 

**March 16th 2007**

 

Portland has a good food scene, a great philharmonic.

 

And to be completely blunt, Audrey Nathan.

 

He was assigned to protect her for a period of three months after an incident with a psychopath on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar, but couldn’t bring himself to leave when the time was up. She was smart, talented, and very musically gifted, and he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

 

Because it never lasted long enough.

 

As S.H.I.E.L.D agents, they spent a majority of their time, well, hopping through time to keep peace around the world and that didn’t exactly aid in fostering good relationships with those outside their organization.

 

The fact that he didn’t age would probably also be an issue.

 

So he does what he can to stay in her life as long as possible.

 

Audrey isn’t like the other women he’s met; she understands him in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible from a civilian.

 

He brings her flowers and they have romantic dinners and he makes sure to attend as many of her performances as he possibly can and it’s working out for them. Time is running out on them though; he has maybe a decade left before he’ll have to either break her heart by leaving her, or do the same by faking his death.

 

A decade isn’t enough.

 

It’s what he thinks as they’re walking hand in hand through the park; she’s chattering on about the new first violin and he’s just enjoying all the green because Portland is basically all metal and buildings in 2144.

 

They pause by a statue so Audrey can admire the plaque, and Phil doesn’t know what possesses him to look up at that moment, but when he does, he almost stumbles in surprise.

 

Melinda is standing not too far away, just silently staring at him, and this should be impossible, because the last time that he saw her, almost two years ago, she was lying motionless in a cryogenic locker, frozen for all eternity, all but dead.

 

But then again, he’s a time travelling secret agent who doesn’t age, so it really isn’t all that impossible, just improbable.

 

She makes no move to speak to him, really she makes no move at all, just standing there, and then Audrey’s patting him on the arm because she’s seen all that she wants to see of the statue and then they’re walking on, and he doesn’t turn his head to glance back, not once, but he can feel her gaze upon them even when they reach a point where he’s sure she can’t see them any more.

 

**August 10th 2031**

She’s not dead.

 

It’s such an odd thought for him to have because she’s sitting across from him just drinking tea from a white china cup, lips curved in a soft smile.

 

They’re kind of, sort of friends now.

 

On their third meeting, in Versaille in the 16th century, he figured it was a younger version of Melinda he was bumping into. She had produced a worn leather notebook and asked him where they were up to, and when she realised he had no idea, she simply dug into a concealed pocket in her poofy gown and procured an identical one for him.

 

She doesn’t have to explain the purpose of this book; it’s like a diary, to record their meetings so they won’t rip a hole in the space time continuum by accidentally revealing truths about the future that they shouldn’t know.

 

The fourth time they meet is far into the future and she’s back-up for his mission and he has pretty horrible flashbacks to when she bled out in his arms but it’s also comforting to know that no matter what happens she can’t “die” here, because he’s technically already seen it happen in his past, which apparently is her future.

 

The fifth time is pretty much in his normal timeline, in Tokyo. He’s checking into a motel and she’s somehow procured the room next door and they spend the night sitting together in the silence, just enjoying the company. She vanishes as soon as the sun is up, and he spends the hour before he has to leave making an entry into his notebook, making the exact time, date and location.

 

This time is the sixth time. It’s been another year since the second and three years now since he first met her. She’s not much of a talker but she makes up for it with her listening abilities and he talks enough for the both of them, and then some, anyhow.

 

“Is marriage impossible for people like us?” he asks, already anticipating the lack of response. He doesn’t have many years left to spend with Audrey and marriage was so sacred to his parents and he had wanted that; he still wants it, but it’s not exactly plausible any longer.

 

“Have you ever been married?”

 

The question is personal, invasive, and he doesn’t really know her well enough to be asking these sorts of things, but she knows him well enough to answer.

 

And surprisingly, she does.

 

“Once.”

 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and she purses her lips and continues sipping from her cup, signalling an end to the conversation. It’s not the kind of advice he was looking for, but it’s enough to help him make up his mind.

 

**May 12th 2012**

 

It’s wrong to let her mourn him when he’s not really dead, but he doesn’t want to break her heart the other way. Phil watches from a distance as Audrey cries at his funeral, and it feels like a punch to his gut.

 

He didn’t want to hurt her.

 

He loved her. But he loved the world too, and he couldn’t protect both if he stayed with her.

 

**January 29th 1994**

 

They’re definitely what he would consider good friends now. He’s seen Melinda more in the past year than he’s seen her altogether in the six years before that.

 

Their timelines are running back to front - her’s is running opposite to everyone else’s and his future is her past, which is only part of the reason she’s so tight lipped about everything. Their conversations consist mainly of him speaking and her listening and he often wonders if he should start silencing himself a little more to keep from revealing too much about her future that she shouldn’t know.

 

They run a mission together in March of 2025, and then a week later they’re here, being patched up by medical on base and he wishes they had picked a date further in the future because 90s medicine and technology really isn’t up to speed.

 

“Until next time,” he tells her when she rises to leave, and before he can comprehend what is happening, she has a hand on his arm and is pressing a gentle kiss to his lips and that’s new and definitely enjoyable and he wouldn’t be opposed to it happening again. He does hesitate though, and she feels it, pulling away silently, eyes asking the usual questions.

 

“Sorry, just wasn’t expecting that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, and he doesn’t miss the way her entire form seems to deflate despite the even expression across her features.

 

“First time for everything though,” he jokes a moment later, and she gives him this heart breaking smile before vanishing, leaving him with only three words.

 

“And a last.”

 

**July 8th 2014**

 

He begins to understand more about their relationship now.

 

Their timelines may run back to front, but it’s not that simple. Sometimes, an older version her will pop up in between the younger ones and visit him out of the blue. Their meetings are never really planned, they just sort of happen - some sort of paradoxical thing he supposes, with things technically having already happened in her timeline.

 

Every time something “new” happens for him, one of their “firsts” it’s actually only his first. It signals an end for her and he’s beginning to understand the guarded expression she always wears. It pains him to think about how she must have felt back then, when he didn’t recognise her, and he tries his best to hide what he knows from her, the same courtesy she has given him all this time.

 

It’s his birthday in his timeline, and he just has a feeling she’ll turn up, and sure enough, his evening alone turns into a dinner for two and when they get back to his living quarters, they undress and make love, for the first and last time. He thinks he’s hidden his inexperience from her, until she places a hand on his cheek afterwards, staring into his eyes, and she knows; she knows that it’s all ending for her, but she just presses a kiss to his lips and leaves him before he can say another word.

 

He sits there, alone, wondering if it’ll be like that for him. If there will be a day he kisses her and she’s surprised because it’s never happened before and he knows there is no way he’d be able to hide his pain.

 

**February 16th 1943**

 

They’re definitely dating.

 

Despite having never verbally defined whatever it is they have between them, Phil would call it dating. They go out, in Paris in the 1960s and London in the 1800s and they spend Christmas and New Year’s together in different cities in different times and he’s pretty sure he’s in love, which just makes the whole “you technically saw her die already and she died knowing you didn’t recognise her” all the more painful to live with.

 

They meet up outside a theatre in New York and then they’re watching a show and Phil is shocked into silence because somehow Melinda has dragged him back to the days before Steve Rogers became a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, and was touring the country performing as Captain America.

 

Despite how much he wishes he could take a photo with the Captain, he knows they can’t leave a single trace when visiting other times, but it’s okay because he’ll probably see Steve at Headquarters in a couple of days and compliment him on his skill in theatre and performance.

 

This time when Melinda leaves, it’s lingering, like she almost doesn’t want to go. She allows him to hold her, pressing her frozen nose into the crook of his neck for warmth and running her hand over his arm as if trying to remember him for when they can’t be together.

 

He understands why when he doesn’t see her again for over a year.

 

**March 18th 2010**

 

It’s been six months since he’s seen or heard from Melinda, his Melinda, and then she just shows up at his favourite coffee shop, taking a seat opposite him with a frown. They pull out their notebooks and work out where they’re at and his heart is in his throat when he sees that she doesn’t have many pages left because this Melinda is an older version.

 

When she realises where he’s up to she rises from her seat and slides into the booth beside him, and he pulls her into his arms and holds her for dear life because half a year is too long and he’s missed her so.

 

“Six months,” he whispers into her hair and she stills before pulling back and placing a hand to cup his cheek, deep brown eyes staring into his own.

 

“You’re half way there.”

 

She’s broken a rule, by telling him this, but the parameters of their relationship don’t make too much sense in the first place.

 

They stay there, wrapped up in one another until the shop closes, and then she’s gone once more.

 

**August 5th 2035**

 

“Agent Coulson. Here to visit your friend again?”

 

Phil manages a smile at Jemma, one of the doctors working permanently at the Cryogenics facility at SHIELD HQ. She’s young - absurdly so, but just as talented as those agents that have been around decades longer than her.

 

They make small talk as she leads the way to the guarded cryo cells hidden beneath the bottom floor of the facility - and then he’s alone once more.

 

He hasn’t see Melinda in nearly eleven months, so he knows it won’t be long now, and he’s taken to visiting “future her” which is technically “past her” for him, and this time travel stuff

has long since passed the point of confusing.

 

She’s frozen in her chamber, mind and body preserved at the point between life and death and the doctors have already told him time and time again that there’s next to no chance she’ll ever recover, but he stubbornly refuses to accept their words.

 

He talks and she can’t hear him, but it’s just like any other day spent with any version of her. He wills the air with chatter and laughter and lame jokes and she never responds to him verbally. He does have a lot of time to process his thoughts here though,

 

He kind of understands why she never talks - there are too many secrets to spill. He wonders if she’s seen him die; maybe she was returning the favour when she took the bullet for him. Maybe he won’t have long to live. He doesn’t fear death - he understands that part now.

 

He fears reaching a day where they see one another, and she has no idea who he is.

 

He’s not as strong as she is and has no idea if he’ll survive it.

 

**September 23rd 2013**

 

He receives a message from Melinda once the year is up, asking to meet her in Los Angeles and he almost doesn’t believe his eyes when he spots her walking into the hotel lobby, suitcase in tow.

 

She’s different.

 

She’s still the same Melinda, the right one, not an older or younger version who has accidentally shown up, but there’s something about her that is unfamiliar to him, and as much as he is unwilling to admit it, it scares him.

 

She appears excited to see him, as excited as she ever is, and begrudgingly allows him to wrap an arm around her waist as they check in under the aliases Heidi and Charles Martin.

 

He kisses her as soon as the door of their suite falls closed and then they’re drowning in one another, locked in a passionate embrace, unwilling to break away for even a moment.

 

Phil finds himself awake and staring at the ceiling hours later, Melinda tucked into his side, gently breathing, eyes closed in a deep sleep. There are too many thoughts in his mind for him to ignore, too many memories haunting him.

 

Melinda, the older version of her, the one in his past, she’s the sole reason he’s here today. He realises now that his actions could directly influence his own past by altering her future, and it makes his head hurt because of all the paradoxical possibilities. He needs to guide Melinda as she grows to know him less and less, to find courage and strength to continue on and help the younger her as she did for him.

 

This past year has been a living hell for him, barely seeing her, and he realises that because it has ended for him, it is just beginning for her. After they part this time, she won’t see him, not this him anyway, for a year, and despite the fact that she never voiced her emotions, he imagines it would hurt for her too.

 

He wonders if he should be more like her - not revealing so many things about her future and his past that she shouldn’t know. She told him in Versaille, the third time they met, that sometimes things are better left unsaid, and he’s beginning to learn why. His first “I love you” to her could very well be the last she ever hears.

 

And with that thought in mind, he pulls her closer against him, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

 

He doesn’t want to know a life without her, but he knows that day will come. And so he makes the most of this encounter, and they don’t leave the hotel for another week.

 

**April 2nd 2070**

 

They could have had eternity.

 

S.H.I.E.L.D agents; they don’t age, they could have literally been together forever - but he knows that all things come to an end in time.

 

They’re still not there yet. He sees Melinda now more than ever; random dates throughout time and mini-vacations to exotic locations, but with every meeting he loses another part of her. Twelve years have passed for him since the day that she “died”, and he realises that they’ve reached the early days of their relationship for her.

 

He should have expected that they would have slept together before having a real proper date, because when he drops her off at HQ after dinner, he leans in to kiss her and she gives him a light shove.

 

“A girl shouldn’t put out on the first date,” she jokes, before smirking to herself and pulling him in, pressing her lips to his.

 

He forces a weak smile as he turns to leave because he realises their days together really are numbered.

 

**June 22nd 2001**

 

They’re no longer together.

 

Fourteen years since their relationship began and it’s faded away into a friendship, just like it faded in from a friendship.

 

His heart has been shattered time and time again each time they’ve encountered one another. When she tells him they’re pretty good together the first time she sleeps with him, and when she shoves him away the first time she’s kissed by him, the meaning behind their only ever true conversation ingrains itself into his thoughts.

 

_“There’s a first time for everything.”_

_“And a last.”_

 

His firsts were all her lasts and her firsts are his lasts and today she’s surprised he brings her tea instead of coffee when he goes to grab drinks for everyone prior to a mission briefing and it nearly causes him to drop his own paper cup.

 

He’s losing parts of her as time runs on and pretty soon she’ll be gone.

 

**August 6th 2082**

 

“I miss you,” he confesses, already knowing there won’t be a response.

 

He’s visiting her in her chamber again, because he hasn’t seen “his timeline Melinda” for a while now, and the last time he did they were just acquaintances and he heard from gossipers around them that she had just come out of a divorce with a civilian.

 

Which means the next time he sees her, she’ll be married to another man.

 

**October 9th 1999**

 

She eyes the notebook curiously as he hands it to her, raising a single brow at her new acquaintance for presenting her with such a strange gift.

 

And so he explains to her as best as he can about what to do with it, that their timelines don’t work out quite right and to prevent the universe from imploding, they have to record their meetings in an effort to not rip a hole in the very fabric of reality.

 

She gives him a look that clearly says “why am I still talking to this crazy man”, but nethertheless, tucks the book safely away into her bag, and he breathes a quiet sigh of relief. He always wondered how she ended up carrying around a tattered old notebook documenting their every meeting, and it’s quite fitting that he’s the one to give it to her.

 

Whether her giving it to him lead to him giving it back to her or vice versa is a question that probably can never be answered.

 

Paradoxes were curious things.

 

**June 7th 2042**

 

He wonders if that’s it; that he’ll never see her again, because it’s been so long for him when he walks into a nasty surprise at HQ.

 

Someone has superglued every surface of the break room and he finds himself stuck in the doorway, shoes attached to the floor and the sleeves of his suit jacket adhered to the doorframe.

 

He realises who the culprit is when he spies a familiar face from the corner of his eye. It’s Melinda, younger than he’s ever seen her, looking extremely apologetic as she rushes over to help remove him from his horribly awkward situation.

 

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t meant for you,” she says, as she examines his damaged suit. “Maria painted my walls in my quarters pink while I was on a mission and this was supposed to be revenge.”

 

He looks down to his socked feet, the soles of his shoes having been torn off by the strength of the glue and his sleeves in tatters and just shrugs.

 

“No harm done,” he jokes, waving his hand in an attempt at nonchalance.

 

“I’m Melinda by the way,” she says, holding out her hand to introduce herself and he immediately flashes back to seventeen years ago when they first met. “Thought you should know that in case you decide to press charges.”

 

And that’s it. This is really the end.

 

“Phil Coulson,” he says, taking her hand, and she smiles, more carefree than he’s ever seen before and he realises how they’ve swapped positions. He’s the quiet stoic one and she’s innocent and knows nothing about what is about to come.

 

He’s already breaking down inside, knowing he’ll never see her again, not alive and happy anyhow, until he realises that he still has one day left.

 

**December 25th 1946**

 

“I will pay you $500 for a pair of flats,” she grumbles as he leads her into the swanky club and he snorts at her comment.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous Melinda, no one in this day and age wears flats,” he responds as he looks down to admire his brand new cufflinks, before offering his arm and leading her out onto the dance floor.

 

“The last time I saw you. You were in a new suit, and I had this ridiculous silver dress and we danced the entire night. I told you I hated it but..”

 

They swing along to the music and the dance styles of the 40s were really quite strange but everyone was celebrating the end of the war, and it was Christmas Eve, so people were generally too drunk to care.

 

Melinda doesn’t look ridiculous no matter what she does apparently, so the evening consists mostly of him dancing like a fool while she watches him with a less than amused expression on her face. He eventually manages to pull her into his arms, and the club is emptying out and they just sway together until the sun begins to rise outside.

 

“This is terrible. I hate dancing,” she grumbles to him, and he just ignores her, pulling her tighter, knowing that once he lets go, he’ll never get to hold her again.

 

He doesn’t kiss her goodbye, the tears tracing a pattern down his cheeks until they disappear into her hair and then he presses a button on the vortex manipulator and he’s gone.

 

He appears back at her cryochamber seconds later, a century into the future, and then he breaks down.

 

**September 29 2015**

 

He’s lost track of time.

 

He doesn’t know where he belongs anymore.

 

Being a senior agent means more paperwork and less jumping through different eras and going on adventures but he can’t bring himself to travel through time knowing that no matter where he goes, no matter what he does, he’ll never see her again.

 

“Sir, we may have a problem.”

 

Less than a minute after the message comes through his inner-ear comms, the door to his office swings open and Romanoff and Barton are standing there their arms locked around an apparently violent young girl.

 

“We caught her hacking into our databases and digging around in all the files pertaining to you sir.”

 

“I caught her. Clint was too busy flirting with the new cadets to even notice a child had snuck into HQ.”

 

Phil rubs his forehead wearily, standing up from behind his desk so get a closer look at the girl. She couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen, appeared to have severe anger management issues and a real talent with computers if she managed to crack through their firewalls.

 

He gives Natasha a subtle nod and then they’re releasing their hold on her and before any of them can react, she’s flung herself at him and that’s it, this is how he dies, at the hand of a child, and it nearly triggers a panic attack because that’s exactly what could have happened all those years ago.

 

He almost expects Natasha and Clint to bolt forward and wrestle the girl away from him, but they appear to be frozen to the spot as they watch the scenario unfold before them. Phil feels a pair of arms go around his waist and she’s hugging him and he’s really not sure how to react but two of his best agents are just standing there gaping at him.

 

Phil shoots a glare in their direction and the two quietly exit the room, but he just knows they’re probably laughing right outside and spreading rumours and wreaking havoc like they usually do.

 

His main focus at the moment however, is the young pre-teen holding onto him for death life and staining the front of his shirt with, oh, tears?

 

“Hey, you’re not going to be punished okay?” he says softly, trying to pull her face away from his chest so she can get a proper breath in before she hyperventilates.

 

When she’s finally calmed down enough, he sits her down onto the ground and crouches beside her, a gentle hand on her shoulder.

 

“Why were you hacking into our files?”

 

She looks up from where she’s twisting her fingers in her lap and her eyes are so scarily familiar to him.

 

“I was looking for my father.”

 

He clears his throat nervously, scratching the back of his neck with one hand.

 

“And did you find him?”

 

She reaches a hand over to him, fingers crushing the still damp material of his shirt as she stares once more into his eyes.

 

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

So he has a daughter. That’s definitely new. His and Melinda’s daughter. She’s eleven and just as brilliant as her mother was and he spends the rest of the day just getting to know her on the floor of his office.

 

She knows more about time and travelling through it then he’s strictly comfortable with, and she’s been waiting for this day forever and he’s not sure how that makes him feel.

 

Skye, she says her name is.

 

She grew up in a safe house and was visited regularly by her mother and he obviously couldn’t know about it because only the older Melinda knew about her and he was bumping into increasingly younger versions and that would have probably blown his mind. Literally. Ripping the universe apart would most definitely blow his mind.

 

“I knew it was time to come and find you,” she says, eyes wide, tears swimming around within, “Because she just stopped visiting and I knew that something must have happened to her.”

 

He nods, a wave of relief washing over him at not having to explain to his newly found daughter that her mother was close to dead and wouldn’t ever come back.

 

“You have to take me to see her.”

 

He wants to tell her that he can’t, that she shouldn’t have to see Melinda like that, that he doesn’t want her to, but then she speaks again and it’s like the light at the end of the tunnel for him.

 

“I can save her.”

 

**October 3rd 2015**

 

Waking is a lot like drowning. It’s hard to breathe and she wants to claw to the surface but something, a heavy weight, is pulling her down.

 

She’s fighting for her eyes to open but it’s so hard and the light flickers and fades before growing stronger than ever.

 

And then it’s gone once more.

 

**October 5th 2015**

She fades slowly into consciousness this time and there’s a weight pressing down against her left side and when her eyes finally open she’s in a stark white infirmary.

 

The last thing she remembers is blood.

 

Death.

 

The little girl she killed.

 

And Phil.

 

Phil as she never knew him.

 

Young and without a clue in the world who she was.

 

She blinks a few times and her vision clears and she sees what the weight upon her arm is; her daughter, curled up beside her and sound asleep and she wants to cry out in relief because she was sure she had died.

 

Part of her did anyway, when she looked into Phil’s eyes, knowing he saw her only as a stranger. She’d been saved somehow, and Skye was here and they could move on from this. Her daughter would be a permanent reminder of everything, all the good, in her life; everything she should be thankful for.

 

And she’d never see him again.

 

Except she does, because moments later he walks into the room and stares wide-eyed at her, dropping the mug in his hand, porcelain shards and boiling coffee splattering everywhere, the sound startling Skye from her slumber.

 

“Melinda,” he whispers and he’s there, by her side and he knows who she is and then the three of them are wrapped up together and Phil is crying and Skye is crying and Melinda sits, not knowing how to react to this situation.

 

Skye holds her tightly, before slowly extracting herself from the situation and shuffling from the room under the guise of conning a doctor into giving her candy.

 

And then they’re alone. Together.

 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he says and she’s a mess of emotions and still trying to hold it all in. “Twenty years, I lived with knowing you’d be gravely injured because of me and having no idea how to save you.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice rough from disuse. They’re the first words she utters in her new life, her second chance and he shakes his head.

 

“No, I’m sorry. I gave up on you but then Skye, she saved you, and we’re together now and we can be together until forever.”

 

The words are cheesy and he sounds like he’s a teenage boy professing his love to his high school girlfriend for the first time but it doesn’t matter. They’ve spent their entire lives together avoiding talking things out, the fear of changing the world greater than anything else they’ve faced, but they don’t have to worry about that anymore.

 

“Melinda, I love you. All those things we never said to one another, all the doubts we had because we never knew, they’re gone now. I know you love me, and it won’t change us if you never say it. We’ve been given a second chance and you’ll never have to wonder, or pray that you could look into my mind to see what I was thinking. Because I’m saying it loud and clear. I love you.”

 

She’s resting her forehead against his, leaning to his side and their hands are clasped tightly together.

 

“I always did tell Skye she inherited her over-talking from her father.”

 

They share a smile at the impossibility of it all. It was like they were fated to never find one another at the right time, but now they’re here together, with a daughter, a daughter who saved her mother and made things right with the world.

 

She raises her hand to cup his cheek, a gesture so familiar between them and ghosts her lips a hair’s width from his.

 

“You mean a lot to me. A lot.”

 

Their lives together up till this point were made up of a series of brilliant days through all of time, and as Phil would later joke to Skye, they literally had “love through the ages”.

 

Their worn leather notebooks will at some point end up in the bookshelf of Skye’s bedroom to be read over and over again. Some words don’t need to be spoken to carry meaning and the ones permanently etched into paper with ink hold more secrets and truths then can ever be spoken.

  



End file.
